


Quest for the Golden Smuppet

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Quest, Smuppets, this is so terrible i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose has an object of her desire and a treasure to find. Who else does she enlist to help her but Bro Strider himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quest for the Golden Smuppet

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays!! secret santa gift for /tentacle-therapist slash /guardognostic and /t-ball on flarping!!  
> i'm really sorry this is so bad, gosh. i've been feeling really out of it lately, so at some point i might come back and edit this just for the sake of preserving some sense of quality.

He steps into your booth like a great jungle cat, taught muscle and relaxed strength pulled invisibly taught behind reflexes just waiting to turn on a dime and strike. His unease isn’tt aimed at you, but at the rowdy child three tables over. A hint of a smile plays at the edges of your mouth and you look up at the white clad figure of Dirk Strider, stri-senior and puppet extraordinaire.  
“Lalondian puzzles as always, I see. Thanks for coffee.” He sits down with a heave of a breath, and a small tilt of the head to let you know behind the shade’s he’s glancing towards the ruckus. It’s almost amusing how Striders seem hesitant to join you in person.  
You cross your leg at the heel, and push a slim envelope over to his side of the table. “I trust your journey was safe and uneventful?” Your hair falls to the side as you tilt your head at the company across you, smiling faintly at his own stiff, gelled tufts.  
“Uneventful as any.” You turn to sip your coffee idly and survey the cafe as he opens the photo, satisfied as you hear the low whistle and know you’ve baited him for the venture.  
“We leave as soon as you realize you don’t want to wait for your drink to cool.”  
“Really.” For the first time his eyes flick up to see yours, and the wailing cries that formerly distracted him don’t register any longer. He might be a great beast, but you’d caught him now. “Let’s go.”  


\-----

  
“Watch your step!”  
Your lip is bit in concentration, and all you answer him with is a soft grunt as you heft yourself not safely off the train and onto the platform to continue your quest, but instead off the ladder and onto one of the compartment’s roofs. Condemn those cliche hooligans clad in black and getting directly in your path.  
Well, almost onto one of the compartment’s roofs. You seem to have direly missed a step in your advancements up the side, possibly due to the natural toss and turn and whipping wind as the train rockets along. Regardless, you’ve miscalculated, and all of a sudden you’re grasping for another foothold before a hand gives way.  
“Christ, Rose, I said watch your step,” and his voice pulls taught, edging concern as he abandons his own safe acquired spot to reach for you, grabbing a wrist and starting to pull you towards him. Two breaths of relief greet the sudden acquaintance of you in his arms, the pair of you stumbling back a ways and trying to combat the winds without falling over.  
“I’m fine.”  
“Fine, my ass.”  
You give him a wink and turn to continue along the cartop, pushing aside the acutely aware feeling of how close you’d just been in favor of continuing to stay upright.  


\-----

  
The first shakings and rumblings are opened with a solid round of curses from where Bro stands, hastily trying to figure out how to remove the golden smuppet without causing any more booby traps. Classily, he opts for swiping it from the pedestal and just booking for it, grabbing your hand and tugging you quickly towards the exit you’d come in from. Your other hand pulls up to your face, trying to shield your eyes as you cough in the sudden uprising of dusts.  
You clench your fingers around his and hold tight, letting him figure out the path for the two of you to take and just trusting that he won’t accidentally guide you beneath large falling debris. You can owe him enough credit not to do that, surely.  
A falling column to your left attempts to beg differ, but as the two of you burst into the shining afternoon light, safe and sound as safe and sound can be, you call this mission a success. Consider it a small check in your book of marks.  


\-----

  
Once away from the chaos and danger of the collapsing temple, you both pause to breathe for just a moment and brush away any smaller debris that had clung to you. He gains his composure a moment or so before you, and pulls the little shrine back out of his pack to admire.  
The plush rump is accentuated with a perfect ass glimmer, and you straighten up to adjust the band in your hair. “Mission Quest accomplished. Success, victory, and trumpeteering triumphs are cordially due.”  
The corners of his mouth turn up in hints of a smirk, and the slight shift of his chin tells you he’s looking at you from behind his shades. “Fuck yeah, Lalonde. Bust in those sweet chiming notes of not failure in our general direction. Sure as hell is it deserved.”  
“Quite.” You flip the ends of your hair over your shoulder, turning to start in your departure. This debacle disguised as a ridiculous faux attempt at reenacting some awful adventure movie has run its course, and as such your participation in it has as well.  
“Rose?”  
You turn to face him, tall and lean framed in various green foliage, innocently curious and unperceptive.  
“It was a pleasure doing business with you.” Crisp, neat words and a coy smile, eloquently rosian.  
“See you ‘round?”  
“Take care. Don’t get robbed.”  
“Don’t get stolen.”  
“Stolen from?”  
“Nah, you could handle that. Your entire person would make one helluva a stolen good, though.”  
You smile for him, but you’ve already turned and began walking away again, offering a small wave over your shoulder instead. “Don’t get pregnant.”  
“Sir, yes, sir.”  


\-----

  
The crisp edges of paper against the softer pads of your fingers slides as you turn the page, looking up to skim the shop and then the smoother cover of the book is felt as it closes, your feet moving to stand as you seem.  
“Sup?”  
“Currently maintaining the impressive status of not being stolen.”  
“Impressive.” He leans towards you, formalities rushed or forgotten, and presses a gentle kiss to the side of your cheek. “As expected.”  
“I should hope so. I do regard myself a person of unattainable high graces.” Your hands find the edges of his cheeks, fingers brushing the tines of his shades and the upturns of his collar, palms gently tickled with scruff. “Unattainable to some.”  
You pull him down to your level, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. And that’s how you, Rosalind Lalonde, truly won the quest of the golden smuppet. 


End file.
